


If the heavens ever did speak (she's the last true mouthpiece)

by BurntToast



Series: I would take the light out of the stars to help you see [2]
Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Becca's death, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntToast/pseuds/BurntToast
Summary: God made humans instruments of love (that’s what her daddy always says) and Shelby proudly takes on this charge like a personal commandment. It feels good to love, the blissful feeling filling up the spaces between her ribs and overflowing onto her tongue until she bursts out in joyous song. Becca just makes her want to sing more than anyone else.-Shelby's story through the island, dealing with grief and finding herself with the help of new love.
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Becca Gilroy, Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Series: I would take the light out of the stars to help you see [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088879
Comments: 15
Kudos: 180





	If the heavens ever did speak (she's the last true mouthpiece)

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you could call this a prequel?
> 
> DISCLAIMER:
> 
> A lot of religious references and sad Shelby. Mentions of Becca's death, but majority are vague

Becca pushes the loud-mouthed boy out of his seat on the first day of kindergarten because he hogs the best crayons and plops down, wayward curls bouncing as she turns and flashes a gap-toothed grin,

“Look! We match!” she exclaims excitedly, and Shelby knows she loves her.

God made humans instruments of love (that’s what her daddy always says) and Shelby proudly takes on this charge like a personal commandment. She loves everyone—truly—she opens her heart to strangers and friends and even people who don’t want it. It feels good to love, the blissful feeling filling up the spaces between her ribs and overflowing onto her tongue until she bursts out in joyous song. Becca just makes her want to sing more than anyone else. They’re best friends, it made sense at the time, she doesn’t think to question it until later.

Despite what her classmates say, church isn’t boring. She hangs on the words of the chaplain as if teetering on the edge of a cliff, clinging to the teachings like a lifeline. At night she flips through worn pages of her bible, reciting the beautiful Psalms and memorizing the verses of John. The scripture seems to pulse on the page, alive with a rhythm that flows like the elegant notes she follows during piano lessons. The music only seems to falter when she stumbles upon Leviticus, and even though she studies the lines over and over she can’t figure out why the beat seems off-kilter, the melodious tune somehow disturbed as if she accidentally struck the wrong key.

-

The music stops altogether, as well as her heart, when Becca comes back before freshman year after a spending summer away with a new pep in her step and no trace left of that adorable babyface. Her eyes shine with mischief and glee and Shelby finds herself captivated as she explores all the different swirling shades of blue. 

Her parents say she “took a trip to the dark side”, but Shelby doesn’t care. It only makes Becca more alluring, an ethereal figure shrouded in mystery that she could spend an eternity trying to solve.

Shelby has never really understood the concept of crushes, struggling to tell the difference between her grand overarching love for everyone and that singular intense thump inside her chest. But when the bible verses no longer resonate like sweet songs, she realizes why it feels as if a noose is wrapped around her neck, slowly tightening its grip as she sinks further into Becca’s embrace.

God never gives a person more than they can handle, but Shelby isn’t sure that is true. Her father talks of sin and loneliness when a member of their church comes out; preaches of struggle and suppression. Images of Jesus’ crucifixion decorate the chapel walls and Shelby draws strength from his suffering as she takes up her private cross and embarks on a miserable journey of her own. Wearing a crown of thorns in the shape of Becca’s mouth open wide as she tips back her head to laugh.

The weight only gets harder to carry as time passes, rough gravel cutting into her bare feet. Becca is witty and bold and somehow gets more beautiful each year. Shelby has to resist sketching constellations between her freckles and fights the voice whispering devious temptations in her ear.

-

Spreading love and God’s glory feels as natural as breathing. She still loves everyone; still extends warm welcomes to those she meets. Even though her knees shake during sermons, the church remains a safe haven. A pathway out of the depths of hell her late night thoughts try to drag her into. It’s where she meets Andrew, and she loves him too.

Loves how his lopsided grin shows off his dimple and how he insists on grand gestures, spoiling her with gifts and affection. He is fun and religious and gets along with her family. She pretends not to see the flirty banter with other girls and lets him get handsy in the backseat of his pickup truck, just to remind herself that this is how it is supposed to be. But when Becca solemnly testifies that she hadn’t admitted her abuse because Shelby strictly kept her promise to God, she isn’t brave enough to say she would rather be kissing her instead.

-

Of course, none of it matters in the end. Becca tries to draw a mustache on her, giggling maniacally and Shelby surges forward. For a brief moment, the devil lays a hand on her shoulder, bearing the weight of that cursed cross long enough to condemn her soul. But honestly, she feels a lot closer to heaven than hell.

It’s barely more than a press of lips, but her heart stutters and the absolute rightness of it sends shockwaves down her spine. All the love she bound up deep inside, unspools, spreading warmth through her stomach, into her chest, along her limbs. She lets the silence linger in the space between them when Becca pulls away, savoring the sweet taste on her tongue and the angelic ballad ringing in her ears.

The bliss is short lived, however, when her father’s icy stare bores into her, uttering “you need to be more careful” as a thinly veiled threat that makes her blood run cold. All at once reality comes crashing around her, the weight slamming back down onto her shoulders, as the noose ruthlessly rips the air from her lungs. Shelby had considered the afterlife implications, the family cost, the potential heartbreak, yet in all her fear riddled scenarios she genuinely hadn’t considered losing her best friend. Which is exactly what happens in that split second.

Not through any unrequited love or disturbed refusal on Becca’s part, but because no future exists where they can be in each other’s life and be safe. She heard the threat loud and clear. If Becca stays, she will become a weapon used to cause mass destruction on Shelby’s world. If Becca stays, she is in danger of becoming a causality of the war that’s been declared. Her father has drawn a line in the sand and Shelby has no army to defend herself with.

She listens from the staircase as their parents express concern and the vulnerability of having her shame laid bare makes bile rise in her throat. Even though to illusion is gone she vehemently denies it anyway, can’t even say the word without it dropping like a stone into the pit of her stomach. The tears fall onto the kitchen counter like raindrops breaking against the car windshield, but they can’t wash away the truth. Her dad sees through the bitter lies that drip like poison from her tongue and conceals his disgust behind feigned declarations of love.

-

Becca comes by when she knows Shelby has the house to herself. The cold tendrils of fear weaving between the breaks of her thundering heartbeat, hiss and recoil at the warmth in Becca’s gaze. It hurts. It hurts so bad to spit venomous hatred and repulsion. Each word that leaves her lips winds up and sucker punches Shelby like sick form of instant karma. A fist connects with her jaw as she begs for Becca to leave her alone, she earns a black eye when refuting who kissed who, and cracks a rib when she throws Becca’s secret back in her face.

Blood drips from her broken nose when Becca says, “I see you,” with unwavering understanding and empathy. It’s almost fitting to look at the gaps in her teeth in the mirror afterward. A physical reminder of the beating she took and the ugliness that way of life promises her. Shelby picks up the remnants of her cross and starts again.

-

Pageants aren’t just petty popularity contests to Shelby. They are an escape, a tether to normalcy, a reaffirmation of her role in society. A place where her flaws are masked beneath makeup and pretty dresses that hide all her little imperfections, a clever misdirect from the monster dwelling inside. So, it only makes sense to find out the news there. To steal the cloak off her shoulders and desecrate her last refuge while she applies Vaseline to her earrings.

“Shelby, I’m so sorry… her mom found her in her car…”

But she can’t hear the rest. The pounding of her heart too loud in her own ears. She’s suddenly struck by an old memory from the book of John, of the spear piercing Jesus’ side as he hangs on the cross, blood and water pouring from the wound. She thinks that is what she feels now. Hanging suspended in time, blade slipping between the spaces of her ribs, love pouring out of her impaled heart, and tears welling up behind the dam of her eyes. Emptying her until her insides are hollow.

She sings Becca’s song. She sings with terrible sorrow lining her throat, her heart splintering on the chorus and tears branding her skin like hot coals pressed to flesh. She lives an eternity in that song, the notes etching hieroglyphs of Becca’s memory into her very bones. The overwhelming guilt and misery and love seeming to crack open the earth with their immensity, prepared to swallow her whole. The story that echoes from her lungs worthy of an epic Greek tragedy.

Shelby loved Becca with everything. Was _in_ love with her. Loved her brilliant blue eyes, fearless smile, and constellations spread across her cheeks. But she alone ruined that beautiful human being. That glorious love—that sin of the heart—she decides, is the most wicked of all evils.

-

Her parents tell her it is a feminist retreat to offset the pageants on her college applications, but she knows better. Heard the unspoken law her father decreed when he pressed the green light on her teeth. So when the plane begins hurtling toward the ocean, she doesn’t pray for her soul, she prays in relief. But ultimately, she doesn’t know whether to be grateful or resentful after she wakes up on the beach.

The one good thing is Martha. Martha who feels achingly familiar. Her eyes filled with a tenderness and compassion so reminiscent of Becca that her heart lurches violently, as if trying to reach out and grasp the memory, the comfort. Shelby latches onto it, the warmth and kindness Martha offers; thinking maybe this time she can return the favor, maybe this time she can do it right.

Nothing is that easy though, no one gets a do over for free. Shelby still tries to love everyone—probably tries even harder now—but Toni makes it surprisingly difficult.

Especially because Toni feels familiar too. Her sharp tongue lashes out like a whip, cracking and slicing across exposed skin. Shelby knows it’s dangerous to play with fire, knows she might come away blackened and scarred but there is a recognizable spark glinting in those amber eyes. It plucks at her heart strings, winds a tether around her spine that stretches taunt between them.

Shelby wonders if Becca’s ghost holds the same animosity, that maybe this treatment is a form of payback. But if this is truly hell, punishment for her sins, then she embraces it. Vows to serve her penance through a girl wholly different but just as breathtaking as the one who deserves it.

-

The stress of the island is truthfully less hectic than her complicated home life. At least here the girls don’t know her history, don’t seem to be worried about anything other than survival which plays into her strengths. Allows Shelby to do what she does best: suggest icebreakers. Becca used to love the games, the random questions and little tidbits of personal information learned in those moments.

Playing them now feels like a small homage, a small plea for forgiveness she knows she won’t get. Everyone seems to enjoy the short minutes of reprieve from their island prison though. Martha apparently determined to stay by her side, much to Toni’s dismay. The more intimate questions seem to make her uncomfortable, but she laughs anyway and beams at Shelby whenever they find things in common. Toni on the other hand sneers and throws targeted barbs whenever the chance arises, but she still plays, and Shelby can tell she too begrudgingly relaxes. Shelby takes it as a win regardless.

It’s almost nostalgic to be around Martha. The simplicity and closeness of their budding friendship so similar to a different start all those years ago that it makes her chest tighten uncomfortably. But there is a soothing newness to it too, Martha’s naivety and unflinching positivity makes it easy for Shelby to feel like the person she was before the kiss, the person her dad needs her to be. A comforting shield to hold the demons at bay.

It’s reassuring in a way, to think that maybe she can do this, can bear the weight of her cross and come out alive. Even though she knows she doesn’t deserve the pedestal Martha puts her on, doesn’t deserve the slice of happiness and wonder in Martha’s eyes. And Toni knows it too.

Somehow sees right through her facade, locked in duel of wills with the beast lurking inside, mocking and taunting as she waits for Shelby to show her true face. The anger and loathing only seems to grow as the days pass. Frustration rippling off Toni’s body as her limbs snap with tension, jaw flexing with unchecked resistance to the charm Shelby normally uses to hide behind.

-

She thinks there must be a spectrum to love, a vast variety of shapes and sizes and types. Because Shelby lends a piece of her heart to each person she meets, lets the love overwhelm her senses, picking apart each person and all the little intricacies of how or why or what she loves about them. But she never really thought to categorize the unique brands of love, to turn them over and examine each feeling that rises in her chest. It’s why it took so long to comprehend the distinction with Becca.

Maybe it is because she is used to easy, lighthearted, happy love. The kind that makes her feel like she is floating on a cloud. The kind that feels like sunshine warming her skin on cloudy days. The kind that comes from family game nights, connecting with newfound friends, bringing a smile to Becca’s face. But Toni doesn’t make her feel any of those things.

Toni makes her insides twist. She doesn’t feel the overpowering urge to sing or dance, instead she wants to scream. To shake her fist at the heavens, curse them for their judgement and rage at the way her gaze drinks Toni in no matter how hard she tries to turn away. It is both empowering and terrifying.

So, when Toni steps into her space, close enough she can feel the hot puffs of breath ghosting along her jaw, Shelby stands her ground. Her heart leaps into her throat at their proximity, but she holds fast. Partially because Toni just has a special brand of fury that crawls under her skin, and partially because that tether cranks tighter, yanking at her spinal cord to draw them together. The beast inside chomps at the bit to snarl back at the insults and sting of the words.

Shelby loosens the leash just enough to defend herself, but then Toni hurls “I see you,” with a brutal ferocity that sends her reeling back in time. It’s not said with the same gentle acceptance, rather with a wrath and candor that is no less powerful than before, no less gut wrenching.

The beast rattles in its cage, launching a verbal attack that Shelby knows will hurt, trying not to dwell on the last time she let her dark side take over. But Toni responds in kind, calling her bluff and leveling her with the dreadful truth of religious ties. The blow hits its mark, rendering her speechless for the time being. Although there is something close to relief coursing through her veins. Because Toni hadn’t blinked, hadn’t shrunk away from her inner ugliness, hadn’t been broken so easily, and that fact calls to Shelby. Gives her a sense of safety in those stormy amber eyes.

-

It’s not long after, that Toni’s unbridled rage erupts in full, and Shelby can’t help but admire the way Toni never holds back. No matter how hard she tries to dispel the assumptions she can’t break that relentless stubbornness. Honestly, she kind of likes it. Hates the way it manifests in aggression and destruction, but there is a certain exhilaration that tingles all the way down to her toes in watching a flame come to life. Even though Toni wrecks their shelter, she can see the passion behind it, the emotion driven by an unseen force that reminds her of the car. Reminds her of the pain and thrill flashing in Becca’s eyes at finally getting revenge on the demon haunting her.

And maybe it’s the parallels. Their mutual tendency to take things too far, to give into more sinister impulses, to feel everything so deeply and wear their battle scars like badges of honor across their chests, that tugs at the tether wrapped around Shelby’s vertebrae. Because that side of Becca was hers alone. A private fragment of her inner workings carved out just for Shelby to behold.

She had squandered it then, shattered that sacred trust, and suffered the worst of consequences. But seeing the instant regret on her face afterward, she wonders if Toni might be as damaged as Shelby is. She wonders if Toni might be able to handle the fragile state of her heart, or if she would even care. They are both imperfect and marred, but Shelby thinks maybe Toni wouldn’t be so easily ruined if she failed a second time.

-

Of course, it is only fitting that she gets to try her luck. Shelby wasn’t prepared for the mussels to become suggestive, to confirm her suspicions about Toni’s private life. Ultimately, she knows it’s the first real entertainment they have had in weeks, but her blood runs cold anyway. Icy fingers curling around her lungs, squeezing as the air turns heavy and suffocating. Jealousy, she realizes, is the primary culprit followed closely by fear.

It’s not fair that Toni can just proudly wave around her sexuality like a banner without consequence, can just carelessly toy with the repercussions of her soul. Shelby feels like she is observing a dangerous dance with the devil, some sort of binding contract guaranteeing protection that she was never offered.

The outburst is unintentional, but she automatically recites familiar rhetoric to cover the blunder. Her father’s voice ringing like an anthem in her ears. Toni spits and curses, wiping a hand across her mouth as her nostrils flare, but Shelby doesn’t miss the hurt laced in her features too. As if despite the anger and tension between them she expected better. As if she might feel that unnerving kinship too.

Which makes Toni’s limp form, hours later, all the more horrifying. She lay dying, covered in vomit and Shelby refuses this ending. Refuses to lose someone else because of her lies. So she shoves her mild annoyance at Toni’s resentment aside (because of course she can barely hold her head up yet manages to gather enough strength to reject help). Seriously, who chooses literal death over a difference in beliefs? But Shelby doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on it, too focused on Toni’s alarmingly pale skin and worryingly heavy eyelids.

Shelby never got to see Becca’s body, wasn’t allowed at her funeral, but she had helped bury Jeanette and she was not about to relive her greatest nightmare. She may never get the forgiveness she craves from her lost friend, but she has a chance here. A chance to prove she will never make the same mistake again, and it is that determination that drives her to push Toni into the sand, straddle her hips and shove the pill down her throat. Forcing her to live, pleading with whoever on High will listen to just save this one beautiful life and keep Shelby’s conscience clear of another tragedy at her hands.

She doesn’t expect to be berated for it later. To have her heart ripped out when Toni screams, “I don’t matter!” like it’s the only truth she trusts.

And Shelby knows Toni believes it, sees the certainty in her eyes. The confession makes something fracture inside her chest, that gravitational pull and inexplicable connection stronger than ever. Because she understands wanting to trade places, to recognize someone else’s value in the world compared to her own. Because that’s exactly how Shelby felt too.

-

Leah sort of loses her mind. Not that Shelby, or any of them really, are models of mental stability, but still, the level of irrational reaches a new peak. She flings wild accusations with a vehemence and assuredness that Shelby doesn’t quite understand. When Leah grips her jaw, frothing at the mouth with frightening intensity, Shelby reacts on instinct. Rips the retainer from her gums and opens wide, because screw it, they might as well know how ugly she is inside and out. They have all already ostracized her anyway for the ill-fated exposure of her belief system.

She tosses a bitter remark in Toni’s direction for good measure as she storms off, the acidic taste of regret still lingering on her tongue. They don’t get it: how badly she needs them to know she loves everyone. How badly she needs Toni to believe her. Not that it matters, she has no reason to offer Shelby redemption, but there is a dejected sort of sympathy on her face anyway that ignites a small candle of hope in the darkness.

-

Toni finds her in the woods, and it is surprisingly easy to smile when she cracks a joke in a weak attempt at lightening the mood. It shouldn’t be so shocking that she doesn’t seem to care about the ugly secret (calling them fangs and teasing with potential pranks) but Shelby still marvels at the casual acceptance. Toni has yet to balk at a single one of her inner demons.

Maybe that is why the drive, that need compels her again. Shelby had pushed Becca away, made her feel less than, but here with Toni she thinks it might be possible to change the outcome. So she tries once more to dispute the assumption of hate, to prove that Toni’s life is worth something and means something. Except Toni goes rigid, stone faced as she lists out the facts.

She finishes her tirade with, “The least you could do is own it.”

And the statement sticks in Shelby’s mind, glued to the back of her eyelids. No one has ever asked her to just _be_ before. They always seem to want something from her: to give in to the hands up her shirt, to parade around in a pretty dress, to uphold religious values, to hide her urges, to change her belief system. It’s strange that the one person who should want the most asks for nothing.

-

They work in companionable silence for a while, collecting firewood and stocking up on tinder. But nagging insecurity wiggles its way out of her mouth, breaking the delicate quiet. Then more words are tumbling from her lips before she can think to stop them, unloading her anxieties and haunting ghosts onto someone who shouldn’t care, but stands and listens attentively anyways. There is a flicker of empathy, but Toni doesn’t show an ounce of pity which is both relieving and frustrating.

There must be something about the circumstance, about being alone together with their inexplicable bond that charges the air, or maybe it is just the fact that Shelby revealed her vulnerable underbelly that causes Toni to launch into a rant of her own. Exposing her struggles and history with a tension in her shoulders and blaze roaring in her eyes, as if she might still be fighting the warring emotions inside her. Martha had only given Shelby glimpses behind the curtain of Toni’s past when things were heated between them but hearing the brutal reality out in the open nearly cleaves her in half.

She kind of understands now Toni’s staunch aversion to God with the cards dealt to her. Gets why Martha’s friendship means so much and where some of that blistering anger stems from. It is heartbreaking to see the genuine pain in her eyes, the shame and self-loathing. But Shelby can’t help but notice the pieces of the puzzle coming together. Their polar opposite worlds, two extreme ends of the spectrum, but both hyperaware of the gravity of their situations. Stuck pedaling to no avail in order to escape a life not suited for them. Maybe that is why they are tethered, revealing secrets and discovering camaraderie in the face of rival circumstance.

Shelby was right. They are both lonely, and both damaged.

Despite the revelation, however, she can see the upsides. Unwanted jealousy rears up again as she imagines an existence without expectation, without boundaries or hiding. The volume of her voice rises as she tries to convey the liberty and power Toni has at her disposal, but Toni matches her fervor, slashing away at her flimsy excuses.

“You’re free here, Shelby…”

Kissing Becca felt right in the moment. Her bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners with laughter, smiling wide with soft curls bouncing. That characteristic teasing edge to her demeanor somehow surrounding her with a faint ethereal glow. The moment had been an utterly perfect accumulation of all the things Becca was. All the things Shelby loved most about her.

Standing before Toni now feels just as inevitable; with the stubborn set of her jaw and amber eyes hardened by defiance. Toni is challenge and combat and fiery passion. Everything that makes her who she is. And Shelby is a moth drawn to a flame.

She remembers the kiss with Becca feeling like a breath of fresh air, blissful freedom, followed by panic as an unanswered question hung in the space between them. Kissing Toni rips the oxygen from her lungs, and there is only a split second of hesitation before Toni is pressing back. The push and pull of their bodies dizzying as Toni grasps at her waist, brings up a hand to cradle her head. Desperation to be closer, closer, offset by the almost tentative exploration of her lips.

Maybe it’s the unexpected softness, the brief surprise and gentleness of Toni’s mouth. Or maybe it’s just that Shelby has never felt this good that makes wild, unchecked terror consume her. Forcing her to wrench away, staring in mystified horror. And the resemblance is too similar, the realization and understanding dawning across Toni’s face blurs, as flashes of that same expression from so long ago dance before Shelby’s vision.

She has no words, no choice, Shelby runs. Sprinting down the hill as fast as she can, while Toni calls after her. Each step feels heavier than the last, each step an added weight to that cursed cross on her back.

-

Spiraling is probably the most benign way of putting what happens next. A part of her recognizes that this dark web spun through her mind is a figment of her imagination, but that doesn’t stop her from becoming ensnared in its trap. Caught in an elaborate labyrinth with blood stains smeared on the walls, demonic voices of temptation and judgment echoing through the halls as she wanders aimlessly, hitting dead ends that detail the condemnation of her soul as she futilely scrambles for an exit. Falling deeper into the black depths even as she falls to her knees and prays.

Maybe begging is a more apt description, but distinguishing the difference is no use. She chants the same prayers on repeat as if they might suddenly change, might somehow absolve her. The alcohol helps numb the overwhelming grief, wraps a heavy cloak around the never-ending pounding sensation inside her skull, but the images still appear. A little fuzzy around the edges, but unmistakable, nonetheless.

Becca’s face cheerful and happy, her face stricken and petrified, then open and accepting, contorted and unbearably sad. Every version, every memory replaying over and over until the alcohol running through her system is strong enough to wash them away like the receding tide.

The last time she kissed a girl her entire world had fallen apart, the safety and comforts she knew turned upside down. The last time, Shelby had lost both her faith and her heart in one fell swoop. Had become an irredeemable monster that caused suffering and disaster.

She wonders if she has reached the end of her journey. Finally arrived at Calvary Hill, with the cross towering over her as a foreboding omen. Crippling pain carves a hollow behind her ribcage, a vestige of the nails driven through her hands and feet, binding her to the creaking wood. Her crown of thorns sits proudly atop her head as she lay there, slowly wilting away beneath the burden of a holy gaze that looks suspiciously like her father.

If God made humans in His image, made them instruments of love, why couldn’t He love her?

The question resonates on a loop. A steady rhythm that bounces between her eardrums. It fills her with dread and hope and everything in between. But even though her insides twist and nausea floods through her, she doesn’t actually wither away on that cross like she expects. There is no great hand of God to strike her down or smite her, instead there is a faint light at the end of the tunnel. Girls who receive her with open arms and acknowledgement.

Fatin takes her unusual comments in stride, joking about whirlpools. Martha offers carefree, dopey smiles and passing hugs. Shelby watches their joy as they all goof off in the water, a bright spot in this sea of darkness. And then Toni, who should only harbor ill will at her avoidance and confusion, remains a solid presence. She doesn’t push or ask, simply waits with a concerned gaze, not quite coming close enough to touch, but staying within her line of sight.

Even when Shelby drops unprovoked doubt into her lap, Toni holds strong. Patient, even as she curses the “hateful church shit” with war and worry budding in her eyes. As if she could singlehandedly will the pain away, as if she would fight tooth and nail for Shelby against the army of devils invading her mind. But ultimately Leah is the one who finally breaks through her walls. Not until after Shelby has already chopped off a chunk of her hair, but still, voicing the real fear, reciting her father’s words near verbatim, a crushing weight lifts from her chest. She doesn’t want to be alone, doesn’t want to live without love.

Crawling back to camp on woozy legs, Shelby glances at Toni’s sleeping form, curled around Martha like a tiny shield of protection. It might be new and terrifying, but maybe she doesn’t have to live a life of solitude, of regret. Maybe Toni isn’t an obstacle of torment, but instead a heavenly gateway.

-

Shelby has done a lot of research on the afterlife. At one point, frantically searched through various religions trying to find a version of hell that she wouldn’t end up in, but she never spent much time on reincarnation.

Giving up on fear didn’t feel like condemnation, rather more akin to rebirth. She lets Toni’s words of freedom and seemingly endless patience, settle into her bones. A key that unlocks the shackles of a past life. Rescue hasn’t come, her father isn’t here, and Toni isn’t Becca. This island could be a fresh start, or a parallel universe given to her as a taste of redemption.

-

The lychee tree feels like a sign, her own garden of Eden with no hint of treacherous serpents.

When Toni swipes a thumb across her cheek to wipe away remnants of fruit, Shelby feels the ground shift beneath her, the earth tilting on its axis as her world narrows. This time the only cross is the one around her neck; the cool metal a reassurance rather than a noose. There is no whispering devil on her shoulder and no threat of devastating repercussion. All that matters is the pleasant fluttering in her stomach and the way the sunlight brings out the gold flecks in Toni’s eyes.

Hope and desire reflects back at her as Toni waits. The tether between them straining with anticipation. Her heart knocks rapidly against her ribcage as she steps forward, cupping her jaw, and presses their lips together. The kiss is more cautious than the first and Shelby can almost feel the restraint, the way Toni holds back. Too soon, Toni separates herself, putting distance between them that feels cavernous.

Maybe Shelby had been selfish to rely so heavily on her strength. Forgetting for a moment that Toni isn’t healed yet either. Shelby has never seen Toni show weakness, ever look fragile, but shadows of past abandonment flicker in her eyes. Trepidation leaks into her expression, as she sucks in a breath, steeling herself.

“Are you sure?”

And she knows the question is a last layer of defense; a meager attempt at protection for both of them. So Shelby kisses her again, as a reassurance and a reminder. Their foreheads rest against each other as she stares into those depthless eyes and accepts her fate.

-

Shelby lets Toni strip away her guilt, her longing, her grief and tries to convey her thanks. Repents for her sins and finds salvation.

She had always thought Becca’s freckles looked like constellations, and she tells Toni each extraordinary tale of mythology as they gaze up at the stars, marking them one by one.

-

The morning sun stirs her from her slumber, the vibrant rays warm on her skin. Reality has a fickle way of inducing anxiety once brought out in the light of day. While she doesn’t allow herself to regret it (couldn’t even if she wanted to), she hadn’t exactly considered at the time what it would mean; how essentially breaking every vow she had ever taken would feel.

That old familiar fear takes hold, calloused hands wrapping around her windpipe, as she twists the chain of her necklace over and over. A red line imprints along her throat by the time Toni finally rouses. She takes one look at Shelby’s nervous ticking and immediately picks up on shadow casting over them. Shelby tries her best to explain, to reassure Toni that her churning emotions weren’t caused by any wrongdoing. She just isn’t ready to face the enormity of their actions yet, to talk about the wavering faith at the core of her being.

Fully prepared for the dynamite and fireworks about explode, she braces herself for impact. But they don’t come. Instead of an angry outburst Shelby expects, Toni simply offers a kind half-smile and casually strolls over to collect lychees. The uncharacteristic calmness is unnerving to say the least, only ramps up her anxiety as new troubling thoughts swirl around inside her head.

-

Discarded lychee peels are crusted under her nails by the time Fatin waltzes over, shattering her concentration of boring holes into the side of Toni’s face up on the hill. It is actually a nice reprieve to have Fatin there, the sad-looking origami fortune a momentary distraction from the relentless spinning she has been caught in. But the paper model can’t answer any of her plaguing questions, and frustration begins to knot between her shoulder blades.

Despite efforts to keep her inner monologue under wraps, Fatin apparently has no qualms about revealing her hand and laying all cards out on the table. It’s one of those things Shelby loves about her, the confidence and underlying attention to detail no one else seems to appreciate. Except, maybe when that attention applies to her and the evident failure to hide her emotions. Fatin makes it seem obvious, “Please, I know sexual tension when I see it,” which is a concerning fact of its own, but Shelby prudently chooses to ignore that point for now.

She knows she needs to talk to Toni, but it feels like a leap. As if she is walking blindfolded toward a cliff, yet the limbo of ignorance, this not knowing how close or how far the edge is, somehow seems safer than diving headfirst. Even though this is different. Even though Toni reciprocated her hunger, everything else about their tremulous relationship is shrouded in foggy indefinites.

Panic begins to sink into the pit of her stomach as she considers the possibilities. Against all odds she cares about Toni, despite the disdain and tension that coated their initial interactions, being with her feels right, feels like bravery and solace. But Toni is supposed to be unyielding fortitude and fiery passion, and Shelby has no idea what she would do if this means nothing, if she broke her vows for an illusion.

Lingering dread creeps along the back of her neck. The last time Shelby opened her mouth she destroyed the one good thing in her life, wrecked a beautiful person. Right now, they stand on a precipice, a thin pane of glass, with legendary potential on the other side that she isn’t convinced she is worthy of. But she never got the chance to ask last time. Never got to learn if Becca might feel the same, might love her too. She promised she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

-

“So does this not matter to you?”

Shelby gets a scoff and amused retort in response, which floods her with sweet relief. She should have known Toni wouldn’t run, wouldn’t flinch at her inner warfare. In the end, Toni says she trusts her, and Shelby can’t help but think that’s the last thing she should do. Not when the risk is so high, not when she has a propensity for ruining good things, but Toni seems content to take her chances.

She dispels all of Shelby’s worry with a clever smirk and careless oath of hope. Stands guard against haunting demons and soothes the knots in her back with sacred words and reverent eyes that become a new gospel.

-

Shelby read once about _kintsugi_ , the golden joinery. An ancient art form where broken pottery is repaired at the seams with glittering gold. It’s meant to show the beauty in imperfection, to show that sometimes broken things can be mended and become better than they were before. When Toni leans into her touch, returns her kiss, she thinks that maybe that’s what they are:

Two damaged pieces of art being molded back together with glittering gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Blame my discord friends for throwing me into my feels the other day. But also thanks to all the kind souls for being beta readers and giving me confidence<3


End file.
